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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058886">The Last Job</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaBlue/pseuds/AshaBlue'>AshaBlue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mewgulf, Waanjai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:00:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaBlue/pseuds/AshaBlue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mew is an assassin who desperately wants to escape the life. He has a plan and is finally sent on a job that will let him carry it out. No matter what happens, this job will be his last. He has thought of and prepared for everything. Or so he thought, until he met Gulf.<br/>Gulf is a university student who lucked into a pretty good job tending a bar at a high end hotel in Phuket. Far worse places to spend his break than making good tips in one of the most scenic stretches of beach in the world. Things get a lot more interesting when he meets a charming but strange new guest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Bangkok - Mew</strong>  </p><p>Mew sat up with a sharp intake of breath. The air in the room sent shivers along his sweat drenched skin. A pained moan escaped from his throat before he could stifle it. The silence of the dark swallowed the sound as he bit back another cry.</p><p>               In a rising panic he let go of the sheets wadded tightly in his white knuckled fists and examined his hands and arms for the oil black slick stains of blood. He scrambled for the bedside lamp, rummaging through the she sheets around him, still searching for the stains. Of course, there was nothing.</p><p>               “Right.” He said to the empty room, remembering with only mild relief, <em>Just the nightmare. </em></p><p>               The adrenaline began to drain from his limbs, and he slumped forward burying his face in his hands as he waited for the sharp teeth of the dream to let go of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears and the visions as if that would help either.  When he finally looked up, his breath and his hands finally steady, the clock on the side table read 3:17 am.</p><p>               <em>I’m so tired.</em> Mew thought, his gaze traveling down to the spot where he kept his gun within easy reach, just behind the nightstand. He forced his mind to pull back from the idea, though he had found himself going there more often than ever this last year.  The nightmares too had gotten worse, more frequent. They were nearly nightly now, a parade of pale, horrid faces in their final moments, twisted in expression of shock and terror. They used to be silent, grotesque in their own way, but more recently they have found their voices, begging, cursing, threatening.     </p><p>               He knew that the moment he touched sleep again they would come flooding back so he does not bother. Instead, heads to the 24-hour pool located on the top floor of his condo building – the main reason he bought the place. There he will swim laps until his muscles scream for him to stop and his body begs for rest, shutting even his mind down into a few hours of blissful numbness.</p><p>               Mew makes the graceful flip underwater for his 5<sup>th</sup> lap. When his head breaks the surface again, he is jarred by the sharp chime of his phone’s message alert as it reverberates through the large empty space. He pauses for a moment, treading water then continues finishing another two laps before he finally lifts himself out of the water in one smooth motion.</p><p><em>Phuket. ASAP. </em>Reads the text of the message. Three files attached: flight and hotel reservation and the details about his cover job under his modeling/acting alias. Mew barely notices any of the details. His eyes are fixed on the only word that matters. <em>Phuket. </em>After all this time, finally a way out. Mew can hear his own pulse thudding in his years as his mind races through the plan he had spent 2 years pulling together. All he needed was a way to get to the coast without anyone trying to track him down and a few days there to set the last few pieces in motion. This was it.</p><p>               Mew pays no mind to the lack of any other details about the job required of him. None of that matters now. Whatever it is, it will be his last. He leaves everything at the pool but his phone, heading quickly to the elevator and his apartment, pool water marking a path behind him.</p><p>He moves through his condo with intent and precision. There are no moments of consideration or hesitation. In his bedroom he locates the secret latch that keeps the false wall of the closet locked and slides the panel back. He grabs the two bags there, packed for months in preparation for such an opportunity. Twelve years of his whole life from the age of 17 fit neatly into two carryon sized bags.</p><p>
  
</p><p>His precision extends to his methodical sweep of the apartment as he checks the few drawers, tabletops, and closets of his sparsely furnished apartment to make sure he has left no trace or clue to where he might be when they come looking for him.  They may be able to follow him as far as Phuket but his trail will end there. People are easy to find especially if they leave in a panic. Most people, no matter how smart they think they are or how careful, leave so many traces of themselves if you know how and where to look. Mew not only knew, but he was also one of the best at finding people who did not want to be found. He always pitied the surprised look on their faces when he inevitably showed up, right before they started trying to negotiate or just beg for their lives. He shakes the thought before it can distract him.</p><p>He knew the place was clean but Mew was nothing if not thorough. It doesn’t take long since he has kept little in the way of personal items or the sort of things normal people fill their homes with that make a place more than its walls and roof.  For all the years he has spent in this place he might as well have been a ghost himself.</p><p>He left the keys to the unit on the kitchen counter and is out the door without a single look back. This place was never a home, just a cell in which he bided his time. He knows he will not be coming back. One way or another this will be his last job as an assassin for the most powerful crime family in Thailand.</p><p>
  <b>Phuket</b>
  <strong> – Gulf</strong>
</p><p>It was not yet noon, but the heat was already pressing heavy on the stretch of road between the hotels and the town proper. This open stretch of road offered no shade or cover to Gulf who glanced up at the ruthlessly cloudless blue sky then back down at the remains of his Vespa.  He downed the last few drops of warm water from his bottle, which only made him thirstier, and tried to fan his shirt in a futile effort to cool off. Just a few minutes earlier the now dead vehicle was ferrying Gulf and the case of extremely expensive and rare wines and liquor back to the hotel before it suddenly let out a sound like a coughing dog and came to a rolling stop.</p><p>               Now it wouldn’t even start.</p><p>Gulf crouched in front of it, staring at the thing as if he could will it back to life.  “Come on old girl, na kraaap. Don’t do this to me, na.” He cooed to it, his voice sweet and pleading, giving the seat what he thought was a friendly stroke-pat.  In response, the thing emitted a loud, high-pitched wheeze and let out puff of black smoke from the engine. <em>“Shia!” </em>Gulf exclaimed stumbling back and away from it should it decide to explode. When it just sat there, now about as dead as it could be, he checked his phone again in what little shade he could find next to the dead beast. Another futile effort. He had worked the hotel for three seasons now and knew this stretch of road well enough to know he was firmly in the service dead zone and would be in either direction for at least another mile.</p><p><em>Great. Just great.</em> Gulf sighed to himself and sunk back all the way into a seat on the ground. It was so dang hot.</p><p>There was nothing to it then but to absolutely murder Boat when he saw him again. They both tended the main bar at the hotel. Three times Gulf reminded Boat to add the special request to their weekly delivery order.  Three times Boat forgot.  He had tried to tell Boat a 4<sup>th</sup> time but he wasn’t answering his phone, and when he didn’t come back to the staff dorms that night Gulf knew he must have gone back to Bangkok a few days earlier. It was not until this very morning at the crack of dawn when Gulf met the weekly delivery did he realize Boat’s profound betrayal. Since the drinks were specifically request for the party to be held that very night, and already paid for, Gulf had no other option but to go into town to fill the order himself.</p><p> Boat would have to suffer in some extremely creative and terrible way as soon as Gulf could think of one. Perhaps he could make him cover all his next event and party shifts for the foreseeable future during their next season…or…</p><p>“Need a hand?”</p><p>The sound of the voice startled Gulf so much he stumbled forward knocking his forehead into the Vespa. Irritation and embarrassment shot through him as he scrambled to keep the thing from teetering off the kick stand, stirring up a prodigious amount of dirt and dust in the process. He was on his knees, coughing through the dust, guiding the thing back to standing.</p><p>“Woah, I’m so sorry for startling you. Are you ok?” The stranger said in flawless Bangkok Thai.</p><p>Gulf huffed and glared up in the direction of the voice. The man stood with the sun behind him, framing him in a brilliant corona of dust diffused light. Gulf took in the broad expanse of his shoulders, lingering far too long on the sight before his irritation snapped him back. He waved off his concern, “I’m fine” he tried to say as he stood up losing the words to another dusty fueled cough.  </p><p>                “Here.” the stranger said, holding out a bottle of cold water, steam coming off its ice-cold surface. Closer and shielded from the sun Gulf made out a pair of kind, dark brown eyes looking at him with concern. He glanced down to the proffered bottle and back up, meeting the man’s rather intense gaze, trying to assess the level of risk in accepting drinks from strangers on the side of the road. The man offered a reassuring half smile, thrusting the bottle forward “It’s still sealed” he added, his voice friendly, deep and velvet smooth. Before his thoughts could register any alarm, Gulf was already twisting the cap and throwing back a big swig. He let out a satisfied sigh as the liquid cooled his throat.</p><p>“Thank you.” He said a little breathlessly, coming up for air before taking a longer, more measured draught, eyeing the man from behind the bottle.</p><p>               He was nearly as tall as Gulf, in excellent shape judging by the way he fitted out the white shirt and beige slacks he wore. Even with his rolled up sleeves and the top three buttons left undone revealing his well-defined chest, the man looked impeccable and appeared to be entirely unbothered by the heat. He seemed totally at ease even as drops of perspiration collected at his hairline before gliding down along his neck and towards the hollow of his throat. Gulf sputtered and nearly chocked on the water as he moved his eye back to the man’s face and registered a look of bemusement on his face, lips curved slightly in a smirk that added an attractive slyness to his features. The man’s eyes locked on his setting off bursts of heat at the core of him that had nothing to do with the blazing sun overhead.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re ok?” The man asked stepping closer as Gulf dabbed clumsily at the water on his chin.</p><p>“I said I’m fine!” Gulf snapped, taking a step back. “I mean…” he searched for words and gave up with a sigh. He put his hands with the bottle between them into a wai and bowed his head. “Sorry” he said, “it’s just been a bad morning.” He nodded at the Vespa.</p><p>“Indeed. You weren’t injured, were you?” The man asked.</p><p>“Only my pride.” Gulf replied, rubbing the spot on his forehead. The man chuckled; a pleasant rumbling sound that made Gulf feel oddly satisfied at having been the cause of it.</p><p>“Can I help?”</p><p> “Do you know how to fix it?” Gulf motioned at the smoking corpse.</p><p>The stranger squatted before the Vespa with a look of concentration, appearing to assess the damage. He rose with a sigh, one hand on his hip the other at his chin.</p><p>“Well?” Gulf asked, hopeful.</p><p>The man nodded thoughtfully and turned to Gulf. “Not a clue” He laughed throwing up his arms. “I know nothing about this stuff.”</p><p>Gulf looked at him with consternation. What the hell was with that joke? What kind of person laughs that much at their own joke? And why in the world was that smile making his face feel so hot. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to stare daggers through the man, who only smiled wider and shook his head. “I can give you a ride to the hotel though” he said, thumbing at his car.</p><p>Gulf started. How did he know where he was going? He cocked his head at the stranger “I didn’t say anything about…” he began but stopped as the man pointed at the side of the Vespa. “Oh.”  Gulf relaxed. “Right.” He let his hands fall at his sides and shoved them into his pockets.</p><p>“Won’t that be out of your way?” Gulf asked not bothering to hide the tone of suspicion in his voice.</p><p>“Quite the opposite. I’m checking in there today” he said. “If you prefer, I could also go on ahead and get someone at the hotel to send for you. I don’t mind either way.” He added moving closer. Gulf stiffened ready to step back but the man side stepped past him and began unlatching the straps keeping the crate attached to the Vespa. “Either way, this stuff shouldn’t sit out here much longer.” He said freeing the box and lifting it with no visible effort. “Unless you planned to cook this…” he balanced the box in one arm and pulled a bottle out with his free hand reading the label “…1989 chardonnay!” he read and whistled, impressed. He placed it back and shifted the weight of the box, his arms flexing against the fabric of his shirt. “Would a shame to waste such vintage.”</p><p> Gulf swallowed. “I’ll take the ride. Thanks.”</p><p>               “Wise choice. Go ahead.” The man thrust his jaw towards the car.  “The door is unlocked. There’s more water in the back if you like. I’ll put this in the trunk.”</p><p>Though the drive would not be long, Gulf dreaded it. He wasn’t great at making conversation, particularly with strangers and he was not looking forward to the awkward and strained silence that often followed his attempts at conversation. So he was pleasantly surprised when the ride ended up being anything but awkward. The man asked Gulf easy questions about his work at the hotel, his studies, what he did on his days off. Each answer properly heard and processed, branching into more inquiries and follow up questions. There was an ease and flow to the conversation that Gulf kept feeling entirely swept up in. He would suddenly notice that he had been talking for several minutes straight and grow a little shy before some new question would set him off again and he forgot himself. By the time they pulled into the hotel grounds Gulf had spent the whole ride talking about himself while stealing furtive glances that told him nothing about the man but the graceful line of his nose and the sharp angle of his jaw. Just as he realized he wanted to know more the car came to a halt.</p><p>“Where to now?” The man asked after they passed the security gate.</p><p>               “Just take a left at the fork there, it’ll take you to service road.” Gulf said.</p><p>They pulled into the unloading area at the back of hotel bar and restaurant. “Oh…We’re here.” Gulf said, hoping the man did not pick up the tone of disappointment in his voice.</p><p>“Did you enjoy my company that much?” The man asked, his voice teasing.</p><p>Gulf spun on him, heat touching the tips of his ears, ready to deny whatever the implication but he halted when their eyes met. The man wore a quiet smile, and an expression Gulf could not make sense of. There was a depth in those eyes that left Gulf feeling like he was standing on the edge of a high cliff, the urge to take a step forward waring with the fear of the fall. He cleared his throat, looking away.</p><p>“Thanks again.”</p><p>“You’re most welcome…” he trailed off clearly waiting for Gulf to fill in the space.</p><p>“Gulf. Gulf Kanawut.”</p><p>The man’s smile widened. “Nong Gulf.” He said as if testing the texture of the words.</p><p>Gulf felt a surge of heat again at hearing his name in that steady, deep voice. "And you are?"</p><p>The man seemed ready to answer but Gulf thought he detected a moment of hesitation, a ripple that unsettled the playful expression, something a little sad touching the corner of his eyes. Just as it came it was gone. “Suppasit Jongcheveevat,” he said and added “Mew is fine.”</p><p>Mew would not let Gulf carry the crate to the storeroom, insisting that he needed to rest after his ordeal and hours of exposure in the sun. His voice and manner so commanding Gulf did not try to argue.</p><p>“Thank you, Phi” He said as Mew finally set down the box.</p><p>“I’ll get going now.” Mew smiled in reply and turned, walking towards his car. </p><p>Before he was even aware of what he was doing Gulf’s mouth was already forming the word. “Wait!” he cried out, jogging to catch up. His heart gave a tiny lurch as Mew turned back, his face painted in unexpected pleasure, eyes wide and curious. Though he suddenly felt his throat go dry, Gulf stepped closer. “You should come by the bar tonight” he said “I’ll save you some of that vintage as a thank you.” He stammered out, berating himself for the unsteadiness in his own voice. Mew only nodded, a smile that could compete with the sun punctuating his answer. This time Gulf met the smile with his own.</p><p>Gulf watched him drive away. He felt exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower. In the comfort of the air-conditioned storeroom Gulf checked his phone and tried Boat again. He let the phone ring until it went to voicemail, hanging up before the greeting finished. He pulled up LINE and typed out a message.</p><p>
  <em>Hey asshole.  Call me. </em>
</p><p>He hit ‘send’ and waited. After a good minute, the status of the message remained as unread. He gave up and put the phone away. He still had work ahead of him and likely no time for a nap before his shift at the bar started. Yet for all that, he could not find it in himself to dread the evening. In fact, he was looking forward to working tonight.</p><p>To be continued</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gulf has a problem he wants to be rid of and Mew is making mistakes that could ruin everything he has worked for.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Several heads turned and trailed Mew as he entered the lobby heading for the check-in desk. Normally as he arrived at a new location his mind worked quickly marking out sight lines, entry and exit points, blind spots, security measures and the people that moved through it all. Now, however, as he moved towards the two uniformed women behind the desk, he kept asking himself over and over what possessed him to give that young man his real name. Mew had stolen glances at him through out their short ride together admiring the soft curve of his full lips, the heart shaped smile. Yes he was attractive but its not as if Mew has never done this before. It wasn't like him to lose his head so easily over a pretty face. He needed to be more careful. Whatever the reason, there was something about the young man, about Gulf, that had Mew making rookie mistakes. Years of planning and an opportunity he thought would never come were too important to risk now, like this. No, he needed to focus and if that young man was a distraction then Mew would do whatever he could to stay away from him. </p><p>The women at the desk stopped whispering as Mew approached close enough to hear the conversation. Not that he needed to. They had been exchanging conspiratorial looks with each other while casting devious glances in his direction.</p><p>“Welcome. Checking in?” One of them asked in English, her intonation pitched to a sweet tone Mew suspected was not her normal cadence.</p><p>“Yes. I have a reservation.” He answered in Thai as he pocketed his sunglasses and locked her in his gaze, his lips curving into a warm, disarming smile. "I made it just this morning. It should be under Pra..." he sad as he pulled out his id and credit card but the rest of the word was abruptly cut off by a loud shout behind him. </p><p>"Song!" </p><p>Mew flinched. He turned to see the woman rush towards him, her smile and eyes growing brighter as recognition replaced the look of confusion on his face.</p><p>“Phi Jennie!”  Mew smiled, pressing his palms together in deferential greeting as she halted in front of him.  She dismissed his formality with a quick flick of her wrist.</p><p>“Oh come now, none of that Nong Song. We’re friends after all!” She beamed.</p><p>Prasong was one of Mew’s more useful covers. The son of a wealthy family who took up modeling as more of a hobby than a pursuit.  It was an identity that worked well for high profile targets. People underestimated models in almost every way.  They let down their guard around him, shared their deepest secrets, let him into their bedrooms and homes with little to no effort on his part. The bed was an underappreciated tool for extracting information from people, especially at night. Over the years Mew found that loneliness grew on people like a second skin. He could see it on them. Knew when he had a target that would cave without any real pressure to anyone who offered them the warm of a human body and a sympathetic ear. </p><p>“I thought it was you.” Jennie exclaimed eyeing him appraisingly. “I could recognize that jawline and these biceps from a mile away.” She said giving his upper arm a firm squeeze. </p><p>“Flattery will get you everywhere.”</p><p>“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Song.” She gave him a playful smack on the shoulder even as her attention was already drifting. Her expression suddenly taking on an inward look as she stepped back scanning him with professional scrutiny. She pulled on his arm to get him to turn this way then that and he obliged without protest.</p><p>Not all his exploits as Song were linked to his real work. He frequently took jobs outside of that to ensure a diverse portfolio, to keep his name on the lists that mattered for these things, and to get away from himself for a while. He met Jennie on such a job and they had worked together on three of her collections over the years. She was finally hitting international acclaim as a designer and seemed intent on bringing Mew along for the ride. Unfortunately, that kind of notoriety was a touch more than what was strictly useful for his particular needs.</p><p>"I take it you're Tar's replacement then?" </p><p>“At your service” Mew replied, though in truth seeing her here was a surprise. The details were likely in the file he picked up from the airport storage locker once his flight had landed. </p><p>“Fabulous! You know I tried to get you in on this from the start but I’m told you refused.” She shook an accusing finger at him. “I can’t wait to get you into my new pieces. The colours are going to look fantastic on you.”</p><p>“A woman who wants to get me <em>into </em>clothes?” Mew balked with mock affront. “Not what I’m used to, but this could be a nice change of pace.”</p><p>“Please” Jennie rolled her eyes. “I see right through your playboy act.”</p><p>“You doubt my prowess?” Mew lifted an incredulous brow.</p><p>“Song, darling, it’s not your prowess I doubt. I simply can tell that you don’t have the heart" she nudged his chest softly with her finger for emphasis "or the stomach for that sort of thing.” She said with a sad smile. “You’re just not the type.”</p><p>Mew felt his face slacken, his smile waver. If she only knew the things Mew was entirely able to stomach. Still, Jennie's observation ran counter to the identity he had crafted for Song and her ability to see through the façade unnerved him.</p><p>“Oh? And what makes you think that?” he tried, fighting to keep the edge out of his voice. She must have seen some kind of shift in his expressions because she reached out and put one warm palm against his cheek. She patted him softly.</p><p>“It’s those eyes, Song. There is too much sadness behind those eyes.” Jennie said, holding his chin and giving it a gentle shake. “Too much longing” She added, letting him go. “I’m not sure why you want everyone to think otherwise, but your secret is safe with me.”</p><p>Mew blinked at her, knowing he should say something snappy and funny to deflect from this but his mind was blank. </p><p>“Ma’am…” A young intern materialized beside Jennie startling them both. </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Mr. Allan is waiting. Your appointment was five minutes ago.”</p><p>Jennie sighed. “Oh! Of course! Right.” She turned back to Mew. “Get settled in, N'Song then come to the number 6 cottage so we can get you fitted. We’ll have lunch brought in if you’re hungry. We would like you on camera most of this afternoon.” She tapped out something on a tablet proffered to her by the intern as she spoke. “Tar’s illness delayed us, so everything is a bit rushed now.”</p><p>“Give me 30 minutes?”</p><p>“Perfect. I’ve got to go.”</p><p>Mew watched her move briskly through the lobby, the intern struggling to keep pace.  </p><p>“Sir?” It was the check-in girl. Her voice was still polite but that lilting sweet tone was gone. </p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry about that.” Mew said turning back towards the desk. “Where were we?”</p><p>“Your name. For the reservation.”</p><p>“Prasong Chanthara." He answered without a second thought. </p><p>Rather than a single high-rise building, the hotel was a collection of several one-story structures of simple modern and minimalist design. Each small building was a stand-alone suite, connected to the main structures of the hotel by well shielded paths and surrounded by picturesque groves, gardens, and pools. The sharp hard edges of the blocky houses seemed to burst out from rocks and trees like strange geometric fruit. The pamphlet handed to Mew at the check-in desk boasted of the untouched spaces and the great care taken to preserve the natural habitats, flora and fauna that could still be found and enjoyed without leaving the hotel grounds. The resulting layout was asymmetrical, buildings strewn about haphazardly like toy blocks abandoned by a careless child.  </p><p>His own suite sat on a rocky outcropping just at the edge of the barrier of trees that separated the hotel grounds from the private beach.  Two of the walls facing the paths were solid, uninterrupted wood. The other two were floor to ceiling panels that slid and swung to open the entire space up unto a shaded terrace with stairs that led down to the beach.</p><p>Mew surveyed the room, taking a moment to enjoy a reprieve from the oppressive heat, realizing with much annoyance that he would be spending most of the afternoon in it for this photoshoot. There wasn’t much time to unpack. He flopped unto the bed and pulled out the the still sealed storage locker envelope. It was still sealed. This wasn't an oversight. He was actively avoiding finding out any details about why he was sent there, worried the information would somehow make him hesitate, change his mind, ruin this one chance.  There was no point to knowing. He had no intention to  complete the contract, only to bide enough time for a few last preparations and then it wouldn't be his problem any more. He tossed the envelope back into his bag and headed out the door. For this afternoon at least the only job Mew would be ding is standing around to look pretty. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Gulf</strong>
</p><p>After urging him to take a break several times Mild finally put his foot down and insisted. He all but dragged Gulf to the hotel kitchen, thrusting a plate of crispy pork and basil at him.  Gulf hadn’t meant to skip every meal that day, but between the mess that morning and the preparations for the party that evening he just forgot. There was a lot on his mind.</p><p>“You won’t be any help if you pass out before the party even starts. Eat. I don’t want to see you for at least an hour?” Mild said with the concerned sternness of a worried mother. He glared at Gulf, daring him to protest.</p><p>“Yes Phi.” Gulf agreed, more than happy to comply as his stomach’s emptiness reasserted itself with a loud growl.  </p><p>“Go.” Mild nudged him gently. “I’ll come get you in an hour or so.”</p><p>He took his food to a spot just behind the staff dorms. A quiet and shaded area with a bench overlooking the beach. He preferred eating here most evenings. It offered a better view than the wall of the dorm or the small kitchen attached to it, and if he got there at the right time, he could watch the sky deepen to gold and wine red and finally to the deep violet of evening as the sun set. It also provided the most privacy he was likely to get. This afternoon, much as the last three, the beach was a flurry of movement as another photo shoot seemed to be wrapping up.  He was curious about it the first day, but the novelty had since worn off.</p><p>Gulf pulled out his phone, swiping through until he found the banking app. Two taps and he was in the account summary. There was still no payment. He checked the date. Two days late already. If they didn’t make the usual transfer by the end of the day that would make it three days. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. The payments were helping a lot and they had never been late, not once in the eight months since the arrangement started. Now this. Was the man calling his bluff after all this time, Gulf wondered. And if he was, then what?</p><p>Nothing, Gulf realized.</p><p>He would not fight this or make any demands. He would let it go.</p><p>The thought, far from troubling him, came with a sense of relief. It had all been too easy and he couldn’t help feeling a constant sense of foreboding with each month and payment. He kept waiting for the catch, the other shoe, the real price of easy money. Nothing came of this fear and perhaps if it ended here nothing ever would. It meant at least another season at the hotel and maybe a few more small part-time jobs during the rest of the year, but it was better than living with this constant anxiety.</p><p>Gulf sighed and put the phone away, focusing instead on his food. He glanced up absently as he chewed, now and again some movement or flash at the scene below catching his attention.  He wasn’t looking for him when he saw him, but he had been thinking of him.</p><p>It took him a moment to realize it was him. Not because he had forgotten what he looked like, but because unlike just a few hours earlier the man was not fully dressed now. Now he wore only some sort of sarong-pant combination in vivid peacock blue that sat so low on his hips as to be one unfortunate slip away from a decidedly different kind of photoshoot. That was all he was wearing. Any doubt or uncertainty over the identity of the man who seemed to radiate at the centre of everyone’s attention was erased when Gulf as him smile.</p><p>
  <em>Mew. </em>
</p><p>It had been obvious the man was in good shape from the moment he met him, even fully clothed.  Seeing him like this, though, was a whole other matter. Even at a distance he could see that Mew’s defined muscles curved and contoured his chest, his back, his arms, and his stomach not as hard, taught, corded things but gentle, sloping, lilting ellipses giving an impression of strength grounded in beauty rather than fierceness or power. The thought of how comfortable that chest might be to lie on came to him unbidden, throwing a wave of heat along his nerves. Gulf shook his head as if he could dislodge the image. <em>What am I doing? </em>He wondered at himself, not for the first time that day.</p><p>Yes, he had been thinking of him. All day Mew Suppasit touched the edges of Gulf’s thoughts. One minute he was counting bottles and the next he was once again going over his short encounter and conversation with Mew from hat morning, over and over, changing the scenario a little to test out different answers he might have given or questions he might have asked.  Gulf tried to ignore the thrilling jolt that thrummed behind his ribcage each time he remembered that morning. Stubbornly, irritatingly, his mind kept coming back to him, to Mew, to what he might say and how he might say it when he saw him again only to immediately try and convince himself that he didn’t really care one way or another. He almost believed it too.</p><p>Gulf sighed gazing into his bowl, nudging a piece of meat with his fork.  He did not want these thoughts or the feelings they seemed to stir in him. What was the point anyway? Not like he could do anything about it, he concluded stabbing a piece of meat with his fork a little too zealously.  </p><p>When he looked up from his bowl again, he found Mew was no longer in his spot in front of the camera. Now he was off to the side and looking directly at him, his face impassive.</p><p>Gulf froze, suddenly struck by the absurd notion that Mew was looking at him because he heard his thoughts. After a moment Mew’s unreadable expression softened into a smile. He nodded at Gulf in recognition, offering him a small wave of greeting. Such a simple gesture, performed by people daily, should not have felt so singularly intimate. Gulf waved back, forgetting the fork he still held in his hand. The motion sent a perfectly cooked piece of meat into the air. They both watched it complete a graceful arc before landing somewhere near a tree. For a moment they just stared at the spot, before looking back to each other again. Then just like that Mew was laughing. </p><p>Gulf should have felt mortified, or at least mildly embarrassed. He felt nothing of the sort. Mew even offered an apologetic <em>wai</em> as he regained his composure, but all Gulf felt was a surge of excitement and a sense of accomplishment. This laugh was his.  He was the reason for it. He looked away, trying to suppress a satisfied grin.</p><p>When he looked back up, expecting to meet Mew’s gaze again, Mew was gone. The crew was busy packing up the sets and equipment. </p><p>He stayed a while longer to finish off his meal, his eyes going to the beach often in the faint hope that Mew would return and they might share another moment but Mew never reappeared. Gulf watched as every trace of the shoot disappeared, the light growing weaker as the began to dip below the horizon. </p><p>With a renewed anticipation Gulf tied the bartender apron behind his back and double checked his inventory for the night. He pulled one of the wines from the crate Mew had helped him with that morning and tucked inside a small shelf under the bar counter. He didn’t want to run out of the good vintage before Mew got there. Gulf waited impatiently for the party to start, rocking back and forth on his heels, moving the bottles and glasses in front of him a fraction of an inch one way, then back. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t think of anything else he wanted more that night than to see <em><span class="u">him</span></em> there, across the bar, smiling in his direction.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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